


Darkest Blue

by pushingthesenses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst Dean Winchester, Highschool AU, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-01 01:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushingthesenses/pseuds/pushingthesenses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I keep fading into you,<br/>Drowning in your darkest blue.<br/>As sorrow pulls me down,<br/>I’m weightless without sound.<br/>I still hear them calling.</i>
</p>
<p>Dean Winchester, to put it simply, was the most fucking self-pitying seventeen year old boy to be found for miles. As far was he was concerned, there was no hope for him. At least, that’s what he thought before he met Castiel Lorenzo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time actually writing about anything Dean/Cas related, so I hope this doesn't turn out too badly! This story was based on the song Darkest Blue by Lostprophets, you guys should google it if you don't know it. It gave me all the Destiel feelings.  
> I have a strong idea of what to do with this story, however, I'm not sure how I'm going to go about it.  
> I know there's a lot of Destiel Highschool AU's out there, but this is just my shot at one. If you're reading; thanks a bunch! Also, if there's any grammar/spelling errors, let me know and I'll correct them. It's a wonderful life without spellcheck.  
> Constructive criticism is always welcome, and I hope you guys like it.  
> Complete AU, and obviously, the characters belong to Kripke.

_I can see into this abyss,  
There is no stopping myself from feeling this._

 

Dean contemplates this at least once a month.  
He sits on the floor of his parents’ bedroom, staring into the open closet. Right at the front, there’s a shoebox. A pretty boring shoebox, brown with a black stripe across the lid. Inside this ordinary shoebox, is one of his father’s many shotguns. Of course, Dean has no idea where the rest of them are, but that doesn’t matter. He knows where this one is. He knows how to load it. He knows how to lock it. He knows how to shoot it.  
The only missing component of his master plan, is courage.  
Ending your own life takes courage. Some say it’s for cowards, but Dean says otherwise.  
You have to have balls, a lot of them, to do it.  
He feels like the lion. You know, from the Wizard Of Oz? He needs courage – boys like Dean are supposed to be born with it in their blood, pumping through their veins.  
But not Dean Winchester.

The internal debate that he had with himself whenever he contemplated this stayed the same. Always the same.  
It starts when Dean thinks about how lost Sam would be without his big brother to guide him. But then, Dean thinks, Sammy is so much smarter, so much better. He’ll move on, go to college, have a family. So then Dean thinks about how heartbroken his mother would be, how crushed she would be to have to bury her firstborn son. But then, he thinks about how successful Sam will be, and how that will give her hope again. He’ll soon be forgotten about – everyone will move on.  
It’s at this point where Dean gets confused. It’s also at this point where Dean gives up, and goes back to his room.  
It’s at this point, where the story begins.


	2. Got Your Head So Full Of Traffic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean knows he's not stupid. He knows that he's good with cars, machinery, and anything involving grease or oil. He knows he'll get a job somehow, somewhere. He knows he has the potential to go to college.  
> The problem with Dean, is that he doesn't want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a boring filler/introduction to Castiel. It's really short, too. My apologies! Time hasn't been on my side. I also apologize for any spelling mistakes or grammar errors. Still haven't got any spellcheck!

Dean knows he's not stupid. He knows that he's good with cars, machinery, and anything involving grease or oil. He knows he'll get a job somehow, somewhere. He knows he has the potential to go to college.  
The problem with Dean, is that he doesn't want to.  
He doesn't see himself as a family man. He doesn't see how any nice, self-respecting girl would want to marry him.  
His dad always told him, "Get yourself a good job, a nice girl, a nice house and you're set for life, son."  
Dean could pull it all off, but he didn't want to.  
He didn't know why, exactly, he just had a feeling that he wouldn't like it. That settling for the white-picket fence life would amount to nothing.  
Dean thinks about this every morning as he walks to school. He could of taken the bus, only he woke up late. He could have driven his dad's Impala, only he couldn't find the keys.  
Dean's life is full of 'would have's', 'could have's' and 'should have's'. But he's come to a point in his life, where he doesn't care. Everything is meaningless.  
He gets up for school in the morning because he has to. He picks Sammy up from Soccer training because he has to. He goes to Hooters to hang out with his friends because he has to.  
He does none of this, because he wants to.  
If Dean had it his way, he'd lay in bed and sleep for the rest of his life. He'd create his future, drag the strangest ideas from the deepest pits of his mind and turn them into something. He'd do anything, everything he ever wanted to do. It's easy to do that when you're asleep.  
Not so much, when you're awake.  


He takes the long route to school, as he's still pondering whether or not to bother attending classes. He's thinking, maybe, he'll wait until his parents leave for work, and go back home to sleep. Or maybe he'll-  
"Crap!"  
Dean looks down dazedly, to see he'd just walked into someone, causing them to spill their papers and books all over the dusty sidewalk. It took him a moment to respond. It seemed easier to just stand and look at the boy, scrambling to catch his papers before the breeze coaxed it onto the street.  
"Sorry, man," Dean eventually mutters, relucantly crouching down to help.  
 _It's not like I'm in a rush or anything._  
The boy says nothing, only continues to collect his papers.  
"Just tryin' to help, dude," Dean says bluntly, handing the papers back to the dark haired teen. He remains crouched for a moment, observing the boy in front of him.  
 _I've seen him before._

"Do I know you?"  
"Obviously not," the boy replies bluntly, attempting to grab the papers from Dean's hand.  
"No," Dean says, holding the papers behind his back. "No, I do, I know I do."  
The boy sighs, bowing his head, "I'm Castiel Lorenzo, I'm in homeroom, and like, four other classes with you."  
Dean's eyebrows knit together in confusion, and he observe's Castiel's face closely.  
"How come I've never seen you?"  
"You weren't looking, I guess," Castiel held out his hand. "Can I have my homework?"  
"Oh, sure. " He'd forgotten he was even holding it. "I'm Dean Winchester, by the way."  
"I know."

Castiel has very big, and very blue eyes. Dean thinks he looks kind of like a dear in headlights.  
"School is that way, just so you know," Castiel says, as they both stand at full height. "You're going the wrong way."  
Dean looks in the direction Castiel is pointing, but makes no move to turn around. He shrugs, "Yeah. I wasn't plannin' on going today."  
Castiel stares at him intently for a moment, and Dean thinks it should creep him out. But it doesn't.  
"Whatever," Castiel mutters, moving around Dean, "I won't tell."  
Dean watches Castiel leave, and thinks he might just make an effort today.  
"Hey!" He calls, probably a little too loud. "Castiel!"  
Castiel turns around, an eyebrow raised.  
Dean smirks.  
"I might just join you."


	3. A Better Nothing

Dean doesn’t know why he decides to go to school. He doesn’t know why he feels compelled to talk to Castiel. He just knows that he should.  
Dean, however, does know that Castiel doesn’t appear to be all that excited about it.

“So, Cas,” Dean begins, but is cut short.  
“It’s Castiel.”  
“Huh?”  
“Castiel.”  
“That’s what I said.”  
“You called me Cas.”  
“I did?”  
“Yeah. Don’t.”  
Castiel, Dean decides, is moody, grouchy, and intolerant. He doesn’t know why he finds this endearing.  


“Alright. _Castiel_. You definitely weren’t here last year, I would have remembered a name like Castiel Elzoro.” Dean also thinks he definitely would have remembered those eyes.  
“ _Lorenzo_.”  
“Lorenzo,” Dean repeats quickly, mentally kicking himself. “My bad.”  
Castiel doesn’t speak for a moment, and Dean wonders if he’d forgotten what he said.  
“We just moved here from Illinois a few months ago.”  
“We?”  
“Me and my brothers.”  
“No parents?”  
“That’s personal.”  
“Sorry, man. Don’t mean to pry. None of my business.”  
“Exactly.”  
Dean chewed the inside of his cheek. _Tough crowd._

“Just trying to make conversation, dude.”  
“Why are you even talking to me?” Castiel turns to Dean suddenly, his eyes demanding, face stony.  
“What, do you want me to talk to the fire hydrant?”  
“You know what I mean.”  
Dean shrugs. “You’re interesting.”  
“I’m interesting?” Castiel says with mock disbelief, much to Dean’s annoyance.  
“Yeah, but hey, I didn’t know that talking to you was offensive. My mistake.” He instantly regrets the bitter twinge to his tone, and Castiel picks up on this.  
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice not quite as harsh. “I just…never mind. I thought you were ditching class?”  
“Decided not to, obviously.”  
“Why?”  
Dean shrugs again, a common gesture. “I dunno, man, I just decided not to. But hey, I get to talk to you, don’t I?” He winks playfully, in a weak attempt to lighten the atmosphere. To his surprise, Castiel blushes, making him chuckle. “I’m kidding, dude, I’m kidding, just trying to lighten the mood.”  
Castiel smiles slightly, but says nothing.

“So, you live with your brothers, huh? I got a little brother. Sammy. Short little sasquatch is what he is, but he’s smart. Real smart,” Castiel watches him intently as he speaks. “What about yours? What’re they like?”  
“They’re…Different. Gabriel is loud….Rude. Michael is the oldest, so he’s pretty responsible, I suppose.”  
“Gabriel and Michael, huh? Like the Archangels?”  
“We come from a religious family. We were all named after angels.”  
“I’ve never heard of an angel called Castiel.”  
“Neither have I, but apparently, there is one.”

Dean and Castiel say their goodbyes as they enter the school doors. Dean’s friends are waiting for him by his locker, and Castiel has to use the bathroom. They both agree to walk home together.  
Dean doesn’t believe that hanging out with Castiel will change anything. But the voice in his head, nagging him to befriend him, could not be ignored.  
 _Two weeks. If you still feel this way in two weeks, you can pull the trigger. Just give it two more weeks._


	4. Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a really quick filler. Thanks for reading, and feedback is always welcome. xxx

Dean hates school. It’s no secret. His friends know it, his family know it, Hell, even his teachers know it. He has potential – a lot of it. Dean’s problem, however, is that he’s lazy.  
He never admits to being so, of course, because he runs, he works out, he doesn’t mind walking places, he works and doesn’t sleep in all that often. But when it comes to school work, Dean is incredibly lazy.

Dean could pass every class with flying colours if he wanted to. Wanting to, being the problem.  
He sleeps through most of English class.

“Dean Winchester!”  
Dean nearly jumps ten feet in the air as Ms McCloskey’s shrill tone pierces through the veil of his dreams.  
“Hm?”  
“How nice of you to join us,” She looks down on Dean in a way he doesn’t like. “Tell me, how do you feel about Macbeth in this act?”  
Dean is tired. He has no will to be nice, nor does he have any patience left. He doesn’t know what it is that he’s feeling, but he thinks it may be somewhere between exhaustion and anger. Or maybe he’s just emotionally drained.  
Dean doesn’t know. But he does know that his fuse has blown.  
“Well, that’s a stupid question,” He sits back in his chair, crossing his arms in frustration. “You could obviously see that I wasn’t listening.”  
“My point exactly, Mr Winchester. You’re supposed to be listening.”  
“Well, I wasn’t,” He shrugs. “My bad.”  
“Well, Dean, to show your remorse, you can take a nice long walk to the principal’s office.”  
Ms McCloskey sits down calmly, and folds her arms. Dean wishes he could wipe the smug look from her face.  
He spends the rest of the day staring at the wall outside the principal’s office.

*

“Where have you been all day?”  
Dean turns around to see Jo Harvelle standing by her locker. He loves Jo, and considers her family, but right now, he wants nothing more than to have Sammy make him some of his famous hot chocolate, and go to bed.  
“Principal’s office. Listen, Jo, I got plans, so I’ll call you later, alright?” Dean grabs his books and makes for the car park, where he promised he’d meet Castiel.  
He can hear Jo’s faint grunts of disapproval as he leaves.  
He isn’t sure why he had been looking forward to walking home with Castiel, and he isn’t sure why he offers such a warm smile as he approaches the dark haired boy, but he does. He also isn’t sure why his will to do nothing but sleep has faded away.  
Dean thinks his whole life revolves around not being sure.  
Castiel smiles in return, and Dean decides that he likes Castiel’s smile, although he thinks he looks like someone who doesn’t smile enough. Much like himself.

“How was your day?” Dean asks as they leave the school. He has already decided on ditching tomorrow. Ms McCloskey has practically made that decision for him.  
“Slow, but bearable. How was yours? I didn’t see you in any classes.”  
“Ah, good ol’ Ms McCloskey decided that the best place for me was the principal’s office, so that’s where I spent my day.” Dean chuckles light-heartedly and notices a smile spread across Castiel’s face.  
He decides that he’d like to see more of that smile.  
“Hey, what are you doing later?” Dean doesn’t hear the words until they’re already out of his mouth.  
 _Way to think that one through, idiot._  
“Uh…Homework, I guess. Why?”  
“Uh, well we should hang out, talk and stuff.”  
“Aren’t we talking now?”  
“Dude, you know what I mean. Look, my parents are working late tonight and I’ve gotta look after my little brother. We could order a pizza or something. You can do your homework there.” He’s cringing as he speaks. He has never had to do this before, much less with someone he is so incredibly fascinated by.  
“Uh…Yeah, I guess. That sounds pretty good.” Castiel smiles again.  
Dean takes a mental photograph of Castiel’s smile, and adds it to the photo album of things he really likes.


	5. Beside You

"Whadd'ya want on your side of the pizza, Cas?" Dean holds a hand over the receiver, peering around the doorway to look at Castiel, who sits awkwardly on the sofa. His head snaps up, although, mostly in favour of chastising Dean for using that nickname.  
"I told you not to call me that," he says, before tilting his head and offering Dean a quizzical look. "We're sharing?"  
Dean shrugs. "Hurry up, man, the dude's waiting."  
"I'll have whatever you're having," Castiel decides, relaxing slightly. "I don't care much." A blatant lie; Castiel has always been ridiculously fussy with his food, and bore an annoying habit of taking far too long to choose his toppings.   
Dean disappears again, reappearing minutes later with two root beers in hand.   
"Is your brother joining us?"  
"Huh?" Dean starts at the sudden mention of Sam, momentarily forgetting that his younger brother is upstairs, doing homework of his own. "Uh, yeah, Sammy'll be down when he's finished his homework." Dean offers a weak smile as he sets the brown bottles down on the coffee table. 

Dean's mind is struggling to process the days events. He concludes that, from an outsider's perspective, it's probably pretty fucking weird. Dean never bothers making friends outside of his immediate circle - he has no need to. Sure, they're more or less oblivious to what goes on in his mind on a daily basis, but Dean's always been somewhat "emotionally constipated", as Jo so kindly put it. Dean doesn't think that this is entirely true, because he has no problem feelings things - he often wishes he couldn't feel anything - but rarely chooses to voice them. He's not a girl, and he's not Sammy. If he wanted to tell his friends about his troubles, then he would. But he doesn't want to. So, he doesn't.

_But there's something about Cas..._ Dean thinks, as he sits down on the leather sofa. _Or Castiel, whatever._  
He doesn't know what it is. Dean has never made friends remarkably fast, and doesn't deny the fact that him inviting Castiel over so soon is more than a little weird. It's something Dean would do for a girl, a girl likes. But even then, Dean wouldn't bring her home. He would never let some girl he barely knew meet Sammy. But Castiel isn't a girl that Dean likes, nor is he a girl at all.   
_What the hell is going on here?_

"Dean," Castiel's low, demanding and slightly pissed off tone tears Dean from his thoughts. "Did you hear any of that at all?"  
Dean blinks, "Sorry, man, I just kinda lost myself there," he runs a hand through his hair. "What did you say?"  
Castiel sighs in disdain. "I just...I just don't fully understand why I'm here," he shrugs slightly, still sitting bolt upright. "You've never even spared me a glance before today, and now I'm sitting in your living room waiting on pizza. I don't understand."  
Now it's Dean's turn to sigh. "Look, Cas," he sits up slightly, turning his body to face the boy beside him, then holding up a hand in apology as he realises his mistake. " _Castiel_ , sorry. I'm not gonna lie, man, I don't really know how we ended up here either. But I'm not gonna over-think it to death, I'm just gonna go with it, so you should too."  
 _Of course you're gonna fucking over-think it, that's all you ever do._  
Castiel takes a moment to let Dean's words sink in. He finds it strange. He hasn't felt any sort of need for a close relationship since he left Illinois. He concluded months ago, that no one in Kansas could quite live up to his ridiculously high standards. Yet, when he looks at Dean Winchester, all green eyes and playful smiles, he begins to think that maybe, somehow, he might be a little bit mistaken.

When the doorbell rings, Dean rockets out of his seat like a bullet. "Damn, I am starving!"   
Castiel can't hold back his soft chuckle, watching Dean flail around frantically for his wallet. He realises with a start that pizza costs money. Money that he should be paying the pizza man with. "Dean, here," he bends down to rummage through his backpack. "Let me-"  
"Hell no, dude," Dean chuckles, finally opening the front door. He hands the pizza man some crinkled bills, telling him to keep the change as he closes the door, two pizza boxes balanced in his left hand. "You're the guest, it's only polite," he turns towards the stairs. "Sam! Pizza!"  
As Dean sets the boxes down on the table, erratic footsteps tumble down the stairs, a short boy with floppy brown hair bursting through the living room door.   
"Hey, hey!" Dean picks up one of the boxes and holds it out of the younger boy's reach. "Hold up, you can't pig out before I introduce you, that's just rude," The younger boy frowns and looks away from his older brother, seeing Castiel for the first time. "Sammy, this is Castiel, Castiel, this is my little brother."  
Sam smiles, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Castiel," he says confidently as Castiel took his hand. "Cool name."  
Castiel smiles in thanks, and thinks that Sam is well behaved for an early teen. "Can I have my pizza now, Dean? I'm starving!"  
Dean rolls his eyes, shoving the smaller box at his brother. He returns to his place next to Cas, barely flinching when Sam moves to turn on the television. Castiel marvels at the scene before him. He wonders why his life has never granted him such simple pleasures.   
"Jesus, Sam," Dean stares down at his younger brother, and Castiel follows his gaze, to where Sam is seated cross-legged in front of the television, wolfing down slice after slice. "What are you, a starving immigrant?"  
"Shut up, Dean," Sam mutters through a mouth full of pizza. "Nobody asked you."  
Castiel chuckles as Dean sticks out his tongue, and he doesn't think about what he says next. "You two are hilarious."  
"Us? Me and him?" Dean gestures to Sam, who is engrossed in an episode of Power Rangers. "Nah, we're just normal brothers, no different from you and your family, I guess."   
Castiel shrugs, and as he quietly ponders the modest strength of Dean's family, Dean shies away from the sense that Castiel may be his best shot at happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the super late update, I lost faith in this story for a while. But hey ho.


	6. Don't You Leave Me

His bedroom floor is hard beneath his back.  
Dean doesn't remember how he got here. He remembers grinning, as he notices Sam passed out in front of the TV, the food coma defeating him before 6pm. He remembers Castiel, smiling as Dean tells him stories of family holidays, of days where Sam's bad luck was the sole source of his entertainment. He remembers telling Castiel about how he was good with cars, and he remembers thinking that he'd sit there all night talking if he had to, just to see Castiel smile. Not that he'd _ever_ admit to thinking that. But then, he goes blank.  
He blinks up at the dark ceiling. The lights are off.

"Dean?"  
"Castiel?" Dean croaked, his head spins violently in protest at his futile attempt to look up.  
"Don't move," he hears Castiel say, just as Dean mutters, "Where are you?"  
"I'm here," and he is, leaning over Dean, frantic with worry. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you onto your bed, it's full of stuff and you were getting heavy."  
"What happened?" Dean raises his eyebrows, feeling slightly lightheaded as Castiel places a hand on his shoulder.  
"I think you were having a panic attack, or an anxiety attack."  
"A panic attack?"  
"It's when-"  
"No," Dean closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I know...I know what it is, I know what they are. I just..." He trails off for a moment, opening his eyes again.  
"Something tells me that this isn't your first attack," Castiel says slowly. "Is it?"  
Dean says nothing, just closes his eyes and tries to recall what could have brought it on. His eyebrows knit together in confusion as he attempts to replay the conversation he and Cas had been having.  
"You were talking about cars," Castiel says, sensing Dean's distress. "That's what brought it on. At least, I think that's what brought it on."  
Dean took a breath, pushing the thoughts aside.  
 _No need for another mishap._  
"Did you carry me up here?" Dean blinks. "What time is it? Where's Sam?" He tries to get up, but his head pounds forcefully against his skull.  
"Don't move," Castiel said, pushing his shoulder gently backward. "And yes, I thought you'd be calmer in your own bedroom. It's eight thirty, and he's asleep. I carried him upstairs, I knew you wouldn't be able to...I hope that's alright." Castiel ducked his head, pulling back slightly.  
"It's fine, man," Dean smiles pathetically. "I appreciate that, Dad would'a killed me if he came home and seen I didn't bother carryin' him to bed."  
"When are your parents home, actually?"  
"Not 'til around one," Dean sighs. "Dad finishes at eleven but he waits to pick mom up. She's a nurse."  
"She'll know what to do when she's home, then." Castiel nods, reassuring himself more than Dean.  
"You're gonna stay though, right?" Dean doesn't realise what he's saying until he sees the confused expression on Castiel's face.  
 _God, Dean, think, would you?!_  
He swallows hard. "I-I just, I dunno-"  
"Yes, of course," Castiel speaks slowly. "Of course I'll stay. I wouldn't leave anyone on their own after an attack like that."  
Dean nods as best he can, feeling tired. He hasn't had an anxiety or panic attack in a while, and can't quite believe that he'd gotten one in front of Castiel.  
 _Luck of the Winchesters, right?_  
He can feel his heartbeat - still rapid, frightening him. He wonders if the attack is over, or if it's just calmed down.

"What's the matter?" Castiel asks, seeing Dean's expression contort into one of panic. "Dean?"  
"I don't think it's over," he breathes, screwing his eyes shut. "I thought it was over."  
It's Castiel's turn to panic. He barely knows Dean - how is he supposed to calm him down? He doesn't know what Dean likes, he doesn't know what relaxes him. His eyes bounce frantically around the room, praying that something would somehow speak to him. That something, anything would be enough.  
But life just isn't that simple, and Castiel has no idea what to do.  
"Dean? Dean," he grips the taller boy's shoulder tightly. "It's gonna be alright, Dean, everything is gonna be alright," He fights to keep his tone even, to keep the panic from showing in his voice.  
 _Pull it together, Dean, come on. ___  
"Shit," he breathes, feeling the panic rising even higher again. "Shit, shit, shit!"  
"Dean," Castiel says again, sternly. "You're okay, it's all okay," but his words don't work, and Dean's breathing only gets faster, his eyes shutting tighter. Castiel has had panic attacks before, but his are different. He guesses that everyone's are different, but that thought doesn't help his situation. His hands are on Dean's face before he registers moving them at all, thumbs caressing the delicate skin under his eyes. Castiel has no idea if this will work, but it's the only thing he can think to do. "You're okay, you're okay," He chants repeatedly, not moving his eyes from Dean. He hopes and prays that this will be enough to even calm him down a little bit, to at least make him coherent. Dean clutches his bicep. "I'm right here, Dean, I'm not going anywhere." 

It takes around ten minutes for Dean to become capable of speech. He opens his eyes and breathes out slowly, calming himself down the best he can.  
"I'm sorry," he says, eyelids heavy. "I'm so sorry that happened." His words are slightly slurred out of exhaustion, and Castiel thinks he probably should have cleaned Dean's bed while he was passed out.  
"You don't need to apologise," Castiel moves his hands from Dean's face, "Honestly, you couldn't have known that would happen."  
"You've known me a day, dude, that's totally not okay," Dean opened one eye. "Like, that's just completely not okay and it's just..." he yawns. "Weird."  
Castiel shrugs. "It doesn't matter to me, Dean, I don't much agree with what's considered normal anyway," he looks back at Dean's bed. "Do you want me to clean that so you can sleep?"  
"You don't have to-"  
"It's alright, I don't mind," Castiel gets to his feet. "The floor will hurt your back." 

Dean watches as Castiel moves his pointless clutter to the floor, not knowing where else to put it. He tries not to think about how much of an idiot he must seem, and suppresses all self-loathing thoughts for the time being.  
 _If I get another one, I swear to fucking God. Who the hell has a panic attack in front of a stranger? Who the hell even does that?_  
He shakes his head, closing his eyes again. He really is tired, and feels as though he could sleep for a week. 

Castiel tugs at his arm. "Can you move?"  
Dean nods. It hurts, but his bed is worth every single sting. Castiel heaves him to his feet, pushing Dean's arm around his shoulder. Dean stumbles into his bed, landing face first against his pillows. He doesn't know what it is about these attacks that renders his limbs absolutely useless, but right now, he doesn't care. He just wants to sleep.  
Castiel stands awkwardly at the edge of the bed. "I'll be downstairs-"  
"No," Dean rolls over and tugs at Castiel's sleeve. "Dude, I think we've completely abolished the whole normal thing," he looks up at Castiel pleadingly. "Stay, just...Just stay, so I can sleep." 

Castiel tells himself that he stays only to ensure Dean remains calm. Dean tells himself that he will vehemently deny _ever_ asking Castiel to stay.  
 _I think I'll just deny the whole damn night._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one night?! I'm on fire tonight.


	7. The Run & Go

Dean wakes up alone.  
It's 6AM, and he figures that Castiel must have left some time before one, before his parents got home. His head is still spinning, and he's still remarkably tired. He takes a moment to wonder how the hell last night even happened.  
 _How was that shit even real?_  
He takes another moment to wonder what day it is.  
 _Thursday? No. Mom worked late last night. That means it's Friday._  
He groans. Friday means school. 

Dean doesn't quite know what happened last night. He knows he had some sort of panic attack, and he knows Castiel was there. The rest is somewhat blurry, and despite his efforts, he can't quite recall the whole night. He wonders, for a moment, how Castiel managed to calm him down. Sam is the only one who knows of Dean's attacks, and is the only one who knows just how to chase them away - stupidly (and badly) belting out Ramblin' Man until his voice is hoarse. Dean rarely remembers his attacks, and when he does, it's all a blur of Sam's voice and throbbing pain. 

"Christ." he mutters, as he lifts his head from his pillow, the intense pain hitting him harder than any hangover he's ever had. Not that he's had many, but still.  
 _Today's gonna be a long ass day._

 

*

"Are you hungover?" Jo is standing at his locker, waiting for him.  
"No," he shook his head. "Migraine."  
"I didn't know you get migraines."  
Dean shrugs. "You never asked."  
Jo narrows her eyes, but doesn't question him.  
"Still on for tonight?"  
Dean blinks. He had plans? "Tonight?"  
"Me, you, Ash? Hooters?"  
"Oh," Dean runs a hand over his face. "Yeah. I dunno, Jo, I-"  
"What is it with you and bailing on plans lately?"  
 _Not today, please don't start this today._  
"Jo, listen-"  
"No, you listen!" She slams Dean's locker, narrowly missing his hand. He looks down at her, incredulous.  
"What he hell, Jo?"  
"Dean! I don't know what the hell is up your ass this year, but you're pissing me the fuck off. There's something you're not telling us, and that's fine, whatever, but _stop_ alienating us, alright?" she pulls her hand away, eyeing Dean furiously. "Don't make us feel like we're not being here for you, because we are. Whatever it is, Dean, we are."  
She pushes past Dean, not looking back. Dean barely has the time to process what he's just heard before he hears a low, gravely voice that gives him goosebumps.

"Fight with your girlfriend?"  
Dean spins around.  
Castiel is standing a few steps behind him, staring after Jo who is bolting to Algebra II like her ass is on fire.  
"What? No, no," Dean glances at his locker. At least she saved him the effort of closing it. "No, she's pretty much my sister."  
Castiel moves his gaze to Dean. Dean thinks that he'd like Castiel to always be looking at him.  
"I'm sorry, it's none of my business."  
"No, it's fine," Dean scratches the back of his head awkwardly. "She's just got her panties in a twist, she'll be fine."  
"Are you okay?"  
Dean scoffs. "I'm fine, we fight all the time."  
"No, I mean...Last night. Are you okay today?"  
Dean swallows. He had been hoping he could dodge this conversation. "M'fine, no big deal, alright? Let's just forget it."  
Castiel doesn't look convinced, so Dean turns to walk away before anything else can be said about it.  
"Are we walking home today?"  
Dean smiles. The part of him that had been convinced that Castiel would hate him after last night breathes a sigh of relief. "Sure, Cas, sure thing."  
"Castiel," the dark haired boy sighs impatiently as Dean walks away. "I've told you, it's Castiel."  
Dean chuckles, turning to face Castiel as he continues walking. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

 

*

Dean's day is long. His headache subsides somewhere around 1pm, but Jo ignores him in class and during lunch. Dean searches the cafeteria for Castiel but sees no sign of the boy's dark sweater.  
He sighs in relief as the final bell sounds. He thinks about the weekend. It will be boring, mostly. He hasn't been in the mood to hang out with his friends lately. They only remind him of everything he hasn't told them. Of everything he never will tell them. He considers spending Saturday at the gym, or at Bobby's garage. The old guy would appreciate a little help in the yard, Dean is sure. Or maybe he'd wash the impala, or sleep, or-

"Dean."  
Dean's head snaps up. He had been in such a daze, that he hadn't noticed Castiel standing right in front of him.  
"Hey, Cas, sorry," he shakes his head. "World of my own. How was your day? I didn't see you."  
Castiel shrugs. "I ditched."  
Dean starts. "Without me?! Dude, you should'a told me, I could'a done without Ms. McCloskey today."  
"I'm sorry, it wasn't planned."  
"It's alright," Dean smirks at Castiel as they pass the student car park. "Just let me in on your plan next time."  
"I will," Castiel stops, mouth moving but no words come out. He looks as though he's afraid to speak. "Um..."  
"Spit it out, dude," Dean chuckles. "You look like a choking fish, what's up, man?"  
He sighs. "I was wondering if..." he trails off, looking down.  
"If...?"  
"What are you doing this weekend?"  
Dean shrugs. "Big heap'a nothin', as far as I can tell. Why?"  
"I have a favour to ask...It's a big thing to ask, and it's fine if you say no, honestly-"  
"Cas, come on."  
"Castiel."  
Dean sighs heavily. " _Castiel,_ spit it out."  
"I have to go back to Illinois," Castiel begins, still finding the pavement far more interesting than Dean's face. "There's something I have to do, and I don't want to go alone and my brother's aren't exactly supportive."  
"I'm gonna need to know what that 'something' is first, ya know."  
Castiel sighs. "I need to see my sister. She's estranged, and she's going through some difficulties."  
"Difficulties?"  
"She's been put into an institution. I got the call yesterday, I'm the only contact she has outside of her work colleagues," he shuffles his feet. "I'm the only family she has, I feel responsible. I know I'm only eighteen, but it's me or no one."  
Dean whistles. "Wow, man, where in Illinois ya' headed?"  
"Pontiac."  
"That's a seven hour drive, man," Dean hesitates, checking his watch. "We could leave tonight, be there by morning."  
Castiel looks up, blinks a couple of times, clearly surprised by Dean's answer. "You'll come?"  
Dean shrugs, chuckling softly. "Got nothin' better to do. I can drive you."  
Castiel stutters.  
"Just lemme go home and grab some stuff first, alright? Meet me at my place around...say, six thirty?"  
Castiel nodded frantically, wondering how on earth someone like Dean Winchester agreed so selflessly to help someone like him. Truth be told, Dean doesn't know why, either. He'd be wary of going on a road trip with Jo and Ash, yet here he is, planning to take off for another state with a guy he barely knows. He knows it's probably very stupid. But he figures a road-trip sounds better than wishing he were dead.


End file.
